Just One Wish
by altairattorney
Summary: "You- you must be a joke," he mumbles. But when he is sent flying and lands on fur, racing in a wind he has never felt in one hundred years, he knows she is not. [Post-game]


**Just One Wish**

"Huh? Did I doze off? Wha-"

Issun turns over and raises his hand, blinded by the fireworks. It is a special powder, the one booming in his ears; the perfect mix, the one reserved for great occasions alone.

Not even today, he thinks grumpily. He couldn't keep himself awake in the racket of Kamiki, in the middle of the most special festival the village has seen in a very long while.

He has gotten old. If active enough, he has turned into the rusty wreck he always feared to be. He is losing count, slowly, of the years – but not today.

"What's up?"

Not today.

Not in the breeze, ripe with the smell of sake, not in the light showering from the moon and the lanterns. Not in front of the blurred image that advances in his eyes – it is a silhouette he knows, carrying a smile and a shine too flashy to be mistaken.

He turns around, rubbing his eyes back to sleep.

"You- you must be a joke," he mumbles.

But when he is sent flying and lands on fur, racing in a wind he has never felt in one hundred years, he knows she is not.

* * *

"That… that brought back memories."

She wags her tail, otherwise looking completely indifferent. There are too many thoughts passing in that wolf head of hers. He is no longer used to reading her mind, nor – even worse – her eyes, with those stupid playful lights in them and the drooping eyelids and –

"Don't you dare sleep now!" he screeches, giving her a vigorous poke from the softer end of Denkomaru. The instinct is back in a moment – he can just feel the burst of laughter hidden under her fake snore. " Did you come all the way just to scare me in the middle of a nap? I thought you'd have a lot to tell me. It's been ages. One hundred years tonight. And you will fall asleep on me?"

A flash of bright petals sprouts on Sakuya.

"I know the gods never rest." He snorts. "I should know better than anyone on this land, right? We have seen some, together. That still doesn't explain your holiday, and you'd better-"

_Ouch._

He had forgotten how much she liked poking him with her nose. He had forgotten many things, with the passing of time. His memories of her had faded gradually – every time he had to spread faith all over again, they paled and vanished in a rite. Of what she was like, of her gleeful manners, he no longer remembered that much.

"I know it was a promise, Ammy," he says. "I know that stubborn head of yours. But how the heck could I expect this? It was one of those promises, y'know. The ones you make when the adventure ends and you go back home. Even though there's two different paths to walk, and two worlds, you say that stuff. And I-"

Her questioning gaze feels like a joke. She doesn't fool him, though – that wolf always understands everything, except when it's convenient not to.

"It's not like I needed it anyway, right? I could look up anytime, when I wanted to make sure I had a goddess watching over my head. I never believed I'd- heh, I'd really see you again."

He has to jump fast to avoid her second poke. He lands, gracelessly, in the spot that used to be his own.

"Hey! Go easy on gramps! It's great Issun you are dealing with, but it's ol' Issun too!"

Amaterasu gallops away to Shinshu Field, resolved to find a quiet spot with no branches and a little soft grass. A mumbling old Poncle clings to her fur, reminding himself of what a pathetic sap he has grown into.

So she reminds him, merrily, that a promise needs to be kept, no matter how small.

* * *

"I never thought I would make it, you know," he sighs to the constellations. Sure, Ammy's head is a nice place to stargaze from. He wishes they could have had more time back then.

"I didn't mean to, but it was part of it. I ended up just like gramps, teaching my brushwork and everything. But I let them choose, when they can't stand it – they are all well-prepared, and I have brought out enough talent to afford their freedom. At least in these decades. I don't want to torture kiddos like – well. But you see, I really came a long way in that village. Heh heh!"

Issun feels the snort run along her nose. He is not quick enough to jump on his feet – not like he used to be, for sure.

"Whaddya mean, it runs in the family? You really never change, old furball!"

Unchanged are the heavens above, with the constellations he has studied for so long. He lets them swing in his field of vision, moved by Amaterasu's quiet breath.

"You kept yourself well, Ammy. Is the half-baked prophet staying away from you, then? Do you avoid his bad influence enough to stay in good shape?"

Immediately regretting his joke, Issun rolls away from her head.

"I was kidding! Don't you try spilling the blasted thing all over me, I don't want my hair tinged!"

And he realizes, in a slow, surprised breath, that her ink is dripping golden, adding new yellow dots to the black infinity of the sky. He is old enough to watch, too young not to be surprised – her brush has truly become divine, standing out brilliantly against his memories.

"Is it this beautiful up there, furball?"

She moves her ears quietly. She knows no better way than showing, than painting images in the dreams of other creatures.

"C'mon," he murmurs. "You don't need an old relic like me to tell his story, Ammy. I know you were there – you were upon us every day. I saw you smile, sometimes, behind my brush. You know my story, you know how many times I told it. Now, I want to hear yours."

He closes his eyes, with ink and starlight still glistening within them.

"I want to know about Okami Amaterasu and her home."

* * *

"A path to the heavens… heh. Mine is the whole truth, Ammy."

The few minutes before dawn rain on the grass, in a mantle of dew. A goddess, a wolf, keeps her little sprite under her muzzle, to protect his old bones from what, to him, is an unwanted shower.

"What Waka said back then was wisdom. You know better than me – a path to the heavens is opened by acceptance, by peace. The Day of Darkness was the day I made peace with my destiny. I ran like hell, you know. It was quite a ride –bless that little trick of yours. I met my fate, then I went on. But that… that is not enough."

Her slow walk cuts the fields in two. The village awakens after a joyous day, the hundredth year after a fight they know too well. It is a new day – for both, it is time to go back.

"Ours are different worlds. Being the Celestial Envoy never made a difference, and it never will. My duty is to stay here, Ammy. That is what I chose, and the destiny which chose me. Still…"

The grey beard of the Poncle swings at the rhythm of her pace, and his head follows. He no longer feels broken – he is sleepy, peaceful, refreshed by the morning air.

"When I grow tired, and when I cannot walk anymore… when my brush fades under my eyes, and when I am useless – think of old Issun, of the Celestial Envoy that is no more. That'd be the time. I am pretty sure I would want to see you again. And to take a peek at the heavens, too… that… that would be nice."

Amaterasu takes care of the little weight on her head. He is bent on her ears, and his sleep is descending so soft that he doesn't notice.

Her foot lies on the edge of a rainbow, in front a barrier now willing to open.

"Until then, take care of the furball you are. I won't come, as long as I can't follow. Your path is not mine."

She waits until his snoring is heavy enough to be heard. She tests the door to her own world, thoughtful – her home is just a step away, the sun ablaze.

There is always a way to go back, in the end. It is all up to her, and to the fabric of existence.

Why not, then. Why not.

She starts climbing.

_And yet, Issun, it is._


End file.
